Stone Castle
by Reyavie
Summary: It gets tiring to build sand castles over and over again. He fixes that for her.


_AN - Short birthday ficlet to Josie Lange. Hope, luck and all good things, lady. Have a good one :) Lhiannon Amell belongs to Josie and was borrowed with no nefarious purpose._

**xxxXXXxxx**

"You never told me what you wished for."

Another Satinalia ended. Candles slowly lost their light, doors closed while the Keep's inhabitants searched for the comfort of their beds and companions. It was a peaceful night, all of it blue tones and the sharp crisp scent that spoke of the proximity to the sea. Lhiannon couldn't get enough of it, elbows pressed against the window shield and skin touched only by the cold air.

Tiredness didn't come easily to the Warden-Commander those days. Neither did peace. But that night, warmed by more than a fireplace, hearing the hearty laughter inside which spoke of her Wardens, she could almost say she was relaxed. No Archdemon would haunt her night, no Architect or Mother, no Eamon or his games. Everything was… perfect. She would dare to think perfect.

A hand splayed on the small of her back, familiar and comfortable like a cherished item.

Loghain stood behind her, towering as always, his gaze outside, not on her. But his smile, there was a trace of his lips that she knew well and no piece of the nature outside would coach it from him. She found herself mirroring her second, leaning against him in search for warmth. Better, so much better.

"Did you hear me?" He whispered lightly, close to her hair. "I asked what you wished for."

Behind them, resting on the table Nathaniel had claimed as his, rested several candles. Their light was also dying even though Sigrun had made sure to find long ones, the biggest her money could afford because 'the longer they burn, the greater luck we'll have. And you have to agree, Lhi, we kinda need a butload of it'. And her cheeky smile as each was lightened, as each of them wished to the Maker, to the Ancestors, to the stars in the sky. It was sweet.

"You're not supposed to tell." As if he needed someone to tell him that, the little white lie every child had heard since old enough to understand words. "You keep silent, you pray to the Maker and it becomes true."

Loghain stopped smiling; expression turned impassive and a little mocking. Yes, she wouldn't get away from the question by treating him as a child.

"Does it matter?" The mage continued, leaning forward once more, her hair spilling outside the window by its own volition. Her husband's body followed without missing a beat, molding itself to hers. "Sigrun's the one that wanted to try it out. It's just a game."

"Then it's not an issue to tell me what you thought of." His words interrupted hers in that manner that seem like they're following her pattern of thought. "You were too serious for someone who was playing a game."

Damned the man, at times.

Her hands crossed on the stone beneath her arms, fingers twisting absently while her thoughts run from her. She lied, of course. It was not just a game. In her house, her first house, the one she was kicked out of as if she had mattered little, this had been a prayer. The holiest prayer, a time in which she could whisper to the Maker and He would hear. Lhiannon didn't remember if He ever replied but he must have. Because she had a home all over again, she had a family which sang behind her, half-drunk if Anders's voice was anything to judge by, and Loghain. A person for whom she no longer had a description. He was far too much for that.

She was a Warden though, she was a mage and people still hate her. So she wished, lighting the large candle, watching Sigrun's eyes brighten in anticipation, feeling the presence of her family filtering through her skin.

"Stone castles."

Loghain's confusion didn't need to be put into words. An answer was always a reply but not all replies were answers.

"Sometimes," she elaborated before he was forced to break his silence "I feel like we live in sandcastles I keep building. That we try so hard, that we keep bringing them up again and again and then someone comes along, is jealous. Is angry for some reason. And they destroy all we have. I feel like I've been building sandcastles since I became a Warden."

The mage wasn't fragile, she didn't have the right or time to be. She did have weak spots though and to him, it was alright to confess to him – just him – wasn't it?

"I want a stone castle, Loghain," Lhiannon confessed in a whisper. "One that won't fall apart."

The most important things didn't need words to be said. It was really no surprise that Loghain's reply was a small sigh, lips pressed against her temple in a caress meant to sooth what he couldn't heal. He built them with her, day after day. He knew her struggle better than anyone else.

"One day. One day they'll realize they can live without attempting to trample others. One day we'll be left alone."

"Optimistic," his fingers ghosted over her belly, a subtle threat not to mock when he was trying to be serious. "When people aren't people?"

"When even they can't ignore the good you bring with you."

No, Loghain wasn't about to allow her to mock her way out of the seriousness of the conversation. She swallowed tightly, feeling the compliment for what it was, the love which always traced his words when he spoke them to her. Lhiannon had an urge to return to that table and hold another candle. She wanted to be true, so much, so very much. _The Maker will accept one wish only, one made with all your heart_, her mother whispered in her ear, _do not be greedy_. And she wasn't. The woman settled against Loghain's larger form, hugging his arms against her and didn't wish. She hoped.

**xxxXXXxxx**

_Loghain isn't around early in the morning. But her head hurts, pressed by the copious amount of alcohol she ingested, and Lhiannon can't force herself to think. Falling back asleep is all too easy. When she did wake up, sun already high and invading through her curtains, the mage finds an object where her husband is supposed to be. A small object. Stone carved, shiny underneath her finger like polished coal. She sees a toy but also a tower, a courtyard, a small store, a granary. She sees a castle and a wish and laughs under her breath because, for a feared general, her husband can be so sentimental at times. Also because of herself who can be so clueless._

_He is her castle._

_In her mind, her mother laughs at her - with her - and the sound is full of smugness._


End file.
